


Pretty

by goodloser



Series: OC stuff [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Dom/sub, Humiliation, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:01:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodloser/pseuds/goodloser
Summary: Foresight is a broken-down empurata victim in the employ of Deformer, a domineering Decepticon who may or may not have the urge to fuck him.
Relationships: Original Cybertronian Character(s)/Original Cybertronian Character(s)
Series: OC stuff [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885093
Kudos: 9





	Pretty

Admittedly, there had been a kind of tension between Deformer and Foresight in the early days. Or perhaps, the current days — whatever,  _ whatever _ because there had always been a palpable awkwardness between the two of them since they’d met. There’d been Deformer’s hands pressing far too often against Foresight’s hips and arms, directing him towards whatever vision he had planned. There was Foresight’s subtle innuendos and his far-too playful manner, his far-too-almost-there jokes that could only really be audible if you had a thing for him anyways.

Today, Foresight had stretched out on the sofa in front of Deformer. He’d inferred Deformer didn’t have a crush on him so much as a desire to simply  _ own _ him, body and soul.

Like he’d never owned anything in his life, of course.

“Close your legs, old man.” Deformer rolled his optics and turned off his report datapad; he’d been hailing a superior on the methods he’d used on a particular criminal. It was a boring interrogation and so it was a dry report. He was bored.

Foresight did no such thing. He was reclining in peace — not even reading a novel like he might usually, but without a care in the world, drumming up lazy plots in that head of his.

Deformer didn’t share this room with his  _ friend _ — rather he tended to pop in and out as he pleased — but maybe today he’d be settling in a little more. “What, you don’t want to?”

“I don’t know.” Foresight tilted his head. He was torn from his thoughts. “I, Foresight, am simply relaxing inside my own home.”

“A home that  _ I _ own.”

“And does that mean I must do what you ask?”

“Come on.  _ You’d _ do it anyway.”

“Very well, my sir.” And he shut his legs and sat upright, as if that wasn’t more of a tease than anything else. With an obvious scowl radiating off his visor, Deformer traced his fingers up Foresight’s legs. His touch was harsh; crude. Foresight didn’t react. He’d always been very good at controlling himself.

Deformer’s words were mocking. “Good job, big boy.”

Foresight had never found himself with a particular submissive streak — more passive than anything else — but that didn’t make being called that any less  _ thrilling. _ “Dear Deformer, need I remind you I am roughly five million years your senior?”

“And yet here you are.” Deformer drew himself up to his full height. “Under  _ my _ heel.”

“Actually, you’ll find it’s the floor resting under your feet right now.”

He lifted his right foot and placed it neatly on Foresight’s panel. Without moving his head, Foresight’s optic dipped down to stare at it. 

“Go on, Foresight. Say it.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand, sir.” Oh, but of course he did. He understood much.

Deformer put more weight into it, carefully grinding into Foresight’s lap. He leant closer. “So you  _ aren’t _ saying it? You  _ don’t _ want me to back off.”

“What I want is of no concern of anyone’s, Deformer. I simply am.” Foresight held an innocent tone. He was looking back up again, head tilted and antenna lazy in that casual way of his.

“Tell me anyway.”

“What I want,” he said slowly, “is what you want.”

“Glad we’re on the same page, Scrapmetal.” Carefully, with  _ enunciation, _ Deformer wrapped his left hand around Foresight’s loose, dead neck cable, twining it through his fingers. Once it was wrapped tight, he tugged on it. Foresight was forced closer. He grabbed Foresight’s satellite with his other hand —  _ that _ got a reaction, delicate piece of equipment it was, and Foresight shuddered. “And fortune teller, what do  _ I _ want?”

“You want me to shut up.”

“So Prime-damned coy.” Deformer pushed his head underneath Foresight’s neck; his head had to tilt up to accommodate it. “But I’m through playing your stupid games. Don’t forget who’s in control here. If you want it, you’ll have to beg.”

Foresight suppressed a shudder. For once, he felt clouded; Deformer nuzzling into his neck was poisonously sweet. But he had to keep his act up. “Beg for what you want?”

“Yes. Read me.” Deformer’s voice had dropped to a low whisper.

“Then  _ please, _ my master. Show me off in front of your friends. Show how you’ve reduced the once-great Foresight.”

“Reduced?”

“Full — you — your fluids — tied up, and I can’t think —”

Deformer gave a soft grunt and retracted his mask to bite sharply into one of Foresight’s still working cables. His mouth tasted of energon. Foresight twitched and tipped his head back further, his vents whining in a soft moan-like breath.

Deformer’s hand came down to undo Foresight’s panel and he rubbed at his lips and rim with surprising softness. Then he jerked two fingers in. Foresight cursed (uncharacteristic anyway) and jerked his hips. Deformer’s spare hand lifted up one of Foresight’s legs for better access, and then he was pumping and stretching his fingers and Foresight was surprisingly  _ close,  _ must’ve been from the tension anyway, as if he hadn’t idly thought about Deformer storming into his habsuite angry one day and bending him over the nearest surface, and oh —

“You think too damn much.” Deformer had added a third finger. They were small, but dextrous and they curled against  _ that _ spot on the roof of Foresight’s valve.

“That’s, that’s why you need me,” Foresight gasped out.

_ “Need?” _ A hiss and fourth. “I  _ need _ you to spread your legs for your master.”

Foresight did as he was told.

There was a click as Deformer’s own panel opened. He’d modded his own spike — like his tiny old original suited him anyway — and pushed into Foresight with another grunt. He didn’t stop. He cared little for Foresight’s comfort, instead pushing into the heat and tightness until it burnt and Foresight was aimlessly tipping his head to the side in a mix of pain and pleasure.

Deformer bit his neck again. He began pounding into him with fervour. 

A thought snapped into place in Foresight’s mind. “Frag me,  _ ah,  _ Master, you own me, yes —”

“Piece of scrap. Nothing without me.”

_ “Claim _ me.  _ Please.” _

Although it was still uncomfortable, there was a knot building in Foresight’s spine. Deformer adjusted his angle and now he was hitting all sorts of wonderful nodes.

“Frag, you’re —  _ hot _ , you, I wish I could’ve met you before, you’re already a knockout now. Slag.”

Foresight came.

His optic fizzled from the strain of the feeling rushing through him. His wings clattered heavily against his arching back and his shaking legs. He reached out with his non-arm to scrape against something, but of course it couldn’t clutch anywhere, so instead he pulled at the back of Deformer’s head with his working one. His stuttering vents were loud enough to drown out his cries.

Deformer bit down on his neck one final time and held him there as he buried his spike as deep as he could and overloaded, his transfluids as deep inside Foresight as they could go.

They stayed like that. It’d been the strongest orgasm Foresight had had in a long,  _ long _ time, and his mind took far too long to reboot for his own liking, although it wasn’t as if he could tell. Deformer’s vents came ragged.

Eventually, Foresight’s optic came back online and he stirred. His voice was lazy, but a lot  _ gooier _ than he’d ever care for. Even if his head was still too frazzled to really be bothered by it.

“You… really think I look good?”

Deformer growled beneath his visor. He pulled out of Foresight roughly and looked away. “No. Don’t be crazy. You look like a badly-welded drone.”

Foresight shook his head. That might’ve been what Deformer said, but he could tell the truth as ever: perhaps Deformer had a little crush after all. Foresight  _ obviously _ didn’t care whatsoever what people thought of his appearance (it was mangled, after all), but he’d — well, maybe it was nice  _ someone  _ thought he looked good.


End file.
